


wanna be your hero

by wasatch_97



Series: Holiday Lights [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Chronic Fatigue, Chronic Illness, Han Jisung | Han is a Ray of Sunshine, Lee Minho | Lee Know is Whipped, Lee Minho | Lee Know-centric, M/M, Soft Han Jisung | Han, THATS A TAG STOP IM, a dash of angst bc im me, holiday fic~, throughout the years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28177458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasatch_97/pseuds/wasatch_97
Summary: “Minho, I called you because it’s snowing here.”A warmth that opposes the winter just outside his window pulls at the dark in Minho’s chest and soon his feet are touching the chilly floor of his apartment bedroom. “Can I ask where you are right now?”“If I tell you…will you come?”Minho wishes away the insecurity that is heavy in Jisung’s voice. “Always.”
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Series: Holiday Lights [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048982
Comments: 8
Kudos: 100





	wanna be your hero

**Author's Note:**

  * For [honeypressed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeypressed/gifts).



> hey my dudes yep i haven’t existed for the past like week but here ya go sorry it’s late (pt. 1) oof  
> ➜ i. this is so cheesy i am sorry eheheeh  
> ➜ the title of the fic comes from [hero](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMVc0vG4K_k)  
> by family of the year!  
> ➜ hi lin hehe have some serotonin :D thank you for always having faith in me !!!  
> hhhhhappy holidays :D

✧ 7 ✧ 

It’s afternoon when Minho first sees him.

The clouds that are muffling the clear sky shade the park that Minho visits nearly every day after school. It feels like something is coming, something big from above. Minho dislikes how quickly night falls now that winter is descending, but he pushes those thoughts aside, instead choosing to skip over to the sandbox. 

As he draws closer he realizes there is already someone in the sandbox - a boy, like him, with black hair and a green shirt that is made patterned by what looks like spilled paint splotches. As the boy looks up at Minho from where he’s crouched in the sand, Minho is met with impossibly large dark eyes and soft cheeks that round his face out. Minho decides he’s definitely older than this boy, even before he kneels in the box, because the boy looks too soft to be close to Minho’s age. He looks too young to be _seven._

When Minho sinks to the ground he glances to his side to find the boy watching him, eyes widening even further when he realizes Minho is looking back at him. 

Deciding he wants to use the shovel laying unused in front of this stranger, Minho introduces himself, trying to earn his favor. He wants the shovel, bad. “Hi, my name is Minho.” 

The boy gapes at him for a moment before speaking himself. “‘m Jisung.” 

Minho grins. “Can I use the shovel, Jisung?” He rejoices when Jisung nods. 

And so, a friendship is born. 

After a few minutes of playing in the sand Minho feels something wet land on his hand. Looking up he expects it to be rain, because of the clouds, but he discovers that snow is falling, and what had landed on his hand was melting crystals. 

There’s a gasp from beside him and Minho looks over, watching as Jisung extends his hand out, eyes glittering in wonder as he observes snowflakes drift to rest on his skin and melt into tiny pools of water not seconds later. “Whoa.” 

“Haven’t you seen snow before?” Minho asks, confused as to why Jisung seems like he’s interacting with this weather for the first time ever. 

Jisung shrugs, “Mom and Dad and me used to go on vacations to warm places during winter.” His eyes don’t leave the snow that continues to meet his open palm. 

Minho nods in understanding. His shovel lays forgotten as he scoots closer to Jisung, plopping down on his bum to be more comfortable as he extends both of his own palms to collect snow as well. Jisung side eyes him and when he realizes he’s been caught, he smiles shyly at Minho, who returns the look with an added giggle. 

Minho has no idea that this boy will be his future. But, at the age of seven, Minho knows that he really likes Han Jisung and his draw to snow. 

(After half an hour of sitting in the falling snow together, their parents find them and tell them that they’ve met and Jisung’s family bought the vacant house on Minho’s block. Also, Jisung says Minho can keep the sand shovel, much to the older boy’s excitement.)

✧ 13 ✧

What feels like an eternity has passed; an eternity with Jisung as his neighbor, just a few houses down. They’ve adapted to each other and walk to school together every day, hang out whenever possible, and for all intents and purposes have become best friends.

Jisung’s interest in snow hasn’t decreased; only escalated to a point where Minho can say without a doubt that Jisung loves snow more than most else. He likes to think that Jisung cares more about him than snow, and he figures it’s alright when Jisung makes it a habit to always seek Minho out when the first snow of the season hits. 

And this year is no different. Minho finds Jisung at the base of his window, yelling up at him to come see the snow. Minho hurries to get ready and is at the front door in under seven minutes, only to be yanked from the porch by his wrist, Jisung grinning as he pulls Minho along towards the park where they had met. 

The snow falls heavily that year and Minho learns that losing a snowball fight is okay, as long as Jisung is the one who wins.

✧ 16 ✧ 

Minho is in the midst of a world history lesson when he glances out the window of his classroom to see snowflakes twirling down to earth. Instantly he goes on alert, he knows Jisung’s class lets out a few minutes later than his so when his lesson ends he grabs his bag and jumps to his feet, running from the room as fast as he can down to the east wing of the building. When he reaches Jisung’s classroom door he notes that it’s still closed, but no more than a few seconds pass before it slams open and Jisung runs out. Minho laughs at his friend and grabs him by the hand, not looking back as Jisung yells at him for coming out of nowhere and startling him.

They make it to the roof in a handful of minutes and Minho winces when the chilled air hits them, seeping past the fabric of his uniform to touch his skin. But the snow is there; dancing against the background of barren trees below.

“Min,” Jisung’s voice is wavering and when Minho turns in panic he finds that Jisung is swaying on his feet, his features darkened with exhaustion. 

It’s strange how tired Jisung gets. As a kid he never had an issue with stamina but recently he seems tired constantly, and it’s now to a point where it’s beginning to affect his day-to-day life. It worries Minho, because no matter how long Jisung sleeps it never seems to be enough. 

“Come here,” Minho instructs and holds onto his friend when Jisung topples against him. He walks Jisung over to a pile of crates and they sit down, Jisung leaning easily into Minho’s side. They’re just under the overhang of the top roof and though Minho knows normally Jisung would be fighting to stand and feel the snow he’s sunk against Minho and doesn’t seem mobile at all. 

“Bad day?” Minho’s arm circles Jisung’s waist to keep him close and steady. 

Jisung hums and Minho realizes his eyes are closed and he’s nearly asleep, just within seconds of sitting. Minho takes a breath but try as he might it feels like all the air in his lungs is being forced out. There are two things that are weighing heavy in his mind; first, the heartache it brings him to see Jisung unable to even smile at the first snow. Second, he wonders how selfish he has to be to want Jisung to be able to smile, and not at the snow. An ugly part of him wishes Jisung would only look at him, and nothing else. 

Minho sits for a long time with Jisung leaning against him, sits until the flakes of new snow have collected on the concrete before them and until the freezing air becomes too much to bear. He can’t make himself wake Jisung so he carries him; making use of the hours he’s begun to spend in the gym, ever since the first time Jisung had been too tired to move and Minho wasn’t strong enough to lift him. 

(When Jisung wakes up he’s on a cot in the school nurse’s office. The lights above have been dimmed and Jisung finds when he shifts into a sitting position that Minho is asleep in the chair beside him, head tipped against the wall. 

The snow piling up on the ground on the other side of the windows and Minho beside him mix into something unforgiving in Jisung’s heart. When Minho wakes, Jisung hides his tears behind a smile and promises himself that he’ll only abuse Minho’s love for a little longer.)

✧ 18 ✧

And then it happens; Jisung’s fatigue peaks and he’s diagnosed, and to Minho’s dismay they find that it’s chronic, and is most likely bound to increase in severity.

Jisung hits a low that Minho has never seen from him and it breaks his heart. He wishes he could be with Jisung through everything but he can’t afford to lose his education. In a string of drunken texts he tells Jisung he’d drop out if Jisung asks, but a phone call from the younger boy the next morning strikes out Minho’s extreme proposition. 

So Minho spends what time he can holding Jisung’s hand. Because it’s what he’s always done and always will do. 

The first snow of the season happens while he and Jisung are on a walk together through the neighborhood after a morning spent mocking classically-bad movies. Minho tries to tell Jisung that the exercise will only exhaust him and that breathing the cold winter air will worsen that, but Jisung has no intention of giving up time outside just because of his health. Minho tries to fight him, all the way to the front door, but Jisung pays him no attention and instead wraps himself in a down jacket, giving Minho a grateful smile when he finally gives in. 

And maybe Jisung is lucky, or maybe he really does have a sense for when the weather is about to shift, because ten minutes into their walk the first snowflakes begin to drift in the gentle currents of the air in front of them. Jisung gasps in surprise and comes to a full stop, eyes growing wide with amazement. He wobbles a bit and Minho’s arm slips around him to hold him in place.

“It’s pretty,” Jisung whispers, raising his hand and watching as the snowflakes slip through his fingers. 

“It is.” Minho’s grip tightens just slightly on Jisung’s waist, not once looking away from his companion. “Really pretty.” 

Minho has seen more than enough snow for this lifetime but he won’t ever get his fill of seeing Jisung all bundled up with reddened cheeks and nose, staring at the falling snow with wonder in his eyes. “Stop looking at me like that.” Without turning, Jisung is able to reprimand him. “Someone might think you love me.” 

Minho doesn’t say anything; he only moves to stand behind Jisung, holding him in a hug with his chest to Jisung’s back. He hears Jisung’s faint noise of surprise and smiles, giving Jisung just a moment to adjust before resting his chin on Jisung’s shoulder. It’s not an unfamiliar position for them, but somehow Jisung seems taken off guard every time Minho touches him this way.

“Minho,” Jisung murmurs, and Minho can tell through a shift in his voice that he’s embarrassed. But he also doesn’t pull away and instead rests his hands over Minho’s, running his fingers over the seams of his. 

“Happy first snow,” Minho tells him after a few minutes of staring out at the white flakes that are now falling heavily, creating a translucent layer on the pavement. 

“Happy first snow,” Jisung returns in a whisper, leaning back against Minho with a small sigh. 

Later, when Minho piggybacks Jisung all the way home he thinks about how much he wishes Jisung could always stay in his arms.

✧ 20 ✧ 

Minho wakes up slowly, sighing a bit as he rolls from his back to his side. He can feel he’s alone in Jisung’s bed, the warmth of the boy gone from the space beneath the covers. Minho can’t help but shiver as he gauges how cold his face and neck are, as the blankets have slipped down around his shoulders.

When he finally finds the energy to open his eyes he realizes why the room is so cold; the window is open wide, letting in the frigid night air. And Minho finds Jisung easily, as he always does. Jisung is curled up on the window seat with his head tilted against the frame, staring out at the white flakes, lit by the porch light, that are falling just beyond his reach. He looks tired, as he most often does, and there’s a dullness to his features that makes Minho want to do nothing but hold him in a tight hug.

“It’s snowing?” Minho asks and his voice heavy with sleep. He’s exhausted, having spent too long in his car the previous day, driving home from university. 

Jisung’s shoulders shift, a sign Minho startled him, but when he glances over to Minho his previously empty expression is replaced by a subtle smile. “I didn’t mean to wake you, Min.” 

Minho shifts up onto his elbows, “You always wake me when it snows for the first time, I don’t mind.” 

“I’d like to go out, I want to feel the snow. I just don’t think I can walk,” Jisung whispers and even at the distance Minho can see that his eyes glittering like he’s at the verge of tears. “It’s bad right now. I can hardly keep awake.” 

“Don’t worry, Sung,” Minho says, his heart shattering to slivers at Jisung’s tone of voice that is so desolate. He pulls himself into a sitting position and then swings his legs off of the mattress. “I’ll take you.” 

Jisung brightens considerably and his eyes are alight with new hope. He goes to slip off the window seat but his legs crumple beneath him when they’re met with the weight of his body. Before Minho can jump from the bed and reach him he’s landed on the floor with a small whine. 

“Hey,” Minho reprimands as he kneels, but his voice is anything but harsh. He knows how much Jisung hates being weak; knows that Jisung is embarrassed and ashamed. “Wait for me next time, Ji.” 

“Sorry,” Jisung whispers, a gasp leaving his lips when Minho scoops him up, one arm under his knees and the other supporting his back. “Sorry, Min.” 

“Don’t ever be sorry,” Minho tells him, setting Jisung down in the nest of blankets atop his bed. “Now stay there and let me get your clothes.” 

“Okay,” Jisung says, hands running down Minho’s to catch on his fingertips, like he doesn’t want Minho to leave. Minho lets himself be selfish and stays in place, staring down at Jisung as the boy brushes their hands together, just on the verge of linking hands.

Jisung is in awe as he always is, reaching out his hands to play the never ending game of trying to catch snowflakes in his fists as Minho carries him. When Minho sits down on the stairs in front of Jisung’s house that lead to the sidewalk Jisung makes to shift off of his lap, but Minho keeps him in place. 

Jisung doesn’t say anything and instead returns his full attention to the snow caught in the yellow haze of the streetlight, not even noticing when Minho adjusts his scarf so the entirety of his neck is safe from the chill. Minho lets him be, lets him be until Jisung settles back against him with a small sigh, his hands finding Minho’s in his lap. 

“If I tell you to gain weight will you try?” Minho asks, referencing the way Jisung’s ribs had been far too obvious when he’d changed shirts. The bones of his wrists are just under his skin, as well. 

“It’s hard,” is all Jisung says, and ducks his head down. They’re both watching as the pads of Jisung’s fingers brush over Minho’s own skin, over the hills of his knuckles and the slope of the back of his hand. 

“I know.” Minho curls his arm around Jisung’s stomach to rest on his hip, drawing them closer together still. Minho feels Jisung’s intake of breath but the boy once again doesn’t pull away, so they stay put. “I know it’s hard, but you don’t need to worry.” 

Jisung shakes slightly in Minho’s hold and when he dares to shift around slightly and look back, his expression taut with words unspoken. “‘Don’t worry,’” his eyes are wide and crystalized with tears. “Say it, please.” 

Minho lets out a breath, his hand drifting from Jisung’s to instead fix the hem of his hat so it covers more of his forehead. It’s hard to look too long at Jisung’s face; at his soft features and pink lips. “I’m here. Don’t worry, I’m here. I’ll always be here.” His sentence ends in a breath, one that turns to a cloud of white that disappears right before their eyes. 

Jisung’s first tears fall, slipping over the blotchy red of his cheeks. “Those words were my greatest comfort for so long,” he says, their knees bumping together as he turns to better look at Minho. “But now I’m so sad when I hear them.” 

Minho frowns, lost. “What do you mean?” 

“It’s because if you keep saying that, you’ll give up your life for me,” Jisung whispers, and his words cut jaggedly through to Minho’s heart. “You’ll give away all your experiences to be with me, lose chances because you have to carry the weight of my problems. Like all the times in school when you skipped class to sit with me in the office. Like all the times you’ve needed to physically move me. Like all the times I’ve asked you for favors I can’t return.” 

“Jisung,” Minho reaches for his hands but Jisung pulls away, his lip quivering and tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. 

“There’s part of you that wants to experience everything, I know there is. I can see it.” Jisung takes a gulp of chilly air, his eyes squeezing shut. “The way I feel towards you...it’s what I hold on to when my day turns rough. But I don’t want myself for you; I want to give you everything, and we both know everything isn’t in my power to give.” His eyes open and there’s such a deep look of grief that Minho’s own eyes sting with tears. “This, that’s between us, maybe one day when you have seen the world and are sure that you want to choose me and all the baggage I come with, come tell me. But until then, I think that our exposure with each other should decrease.”

“You’re cutting me out of your life?” Minho asks, his voice cracking at the idea of Jisung splitting them apart. 

“I’m asking you to live,” Jisung says, patting at his damp cheeks with his sleeves. “Please, Min. I can’t condemn you to live a life purely revolving around me.” 

“Are you giving me a choice?” Minho feels like the ground is dropping out from under him and though Jisung is in his arms he feels too far away. “You really want to do this to us?” 

“Finish university,” Jisung says, unable to look at Minho any longer. “Finish university, without me.” 

Minho’s footing gives way.

✧ 23 ✧ 

Three years pass, three years that are too long. Three years with little contact with Jisung because both of them knew Minho wouldn’t be able to keep the deal if they communicated too much.

But then...it ends.

“Jisung?” Minho asks, sitting up in bed as the surprise of the call hits him. 

“I heard from my mother that you’ve come home from your tour.” Jisung’s voice is warm and so soft and Minho has missed him so badly. “I knew you would do something great. I’m glad you’ve followed your passion for dance.” 

Minho hums in thanks. “I heard from my parents that you’ve gone off to college?” 

“I have. I’ve been lucky with how I’ve been feeling lately.” There’s rustling on the other end of the line and then what sounds like a door opening. “Minho, I called you because it’s snowing here.” 

A warmth that opposes the winter just outside his window pulls at the dark in Minho’s chest and soon his feet are touching the chilly floor of his apartment bedroom. “Can I ask where you are right now?” 

“If I tell you…will you come?”

Minho wishes away the insecurity that is heavy in Jisung's voice. “Always.”

Jisung, however much he loves the weather, is too warm for the snow to last more than a second when the flakes touch his skin. Jisung glows with the warmth of new life and hope when he is happiest, and though he loves the winter he will never be anything other than Minho’s sun. His sun, now just standing feet away, staring up at the sky from where he’s set in the campus grounds. 

“You know being out in the cold isn’t good for you,” Minho reprimands, but he backs his words up with a soft smile. 

At his voice Jisung turns and Minho is hit full force by a surge of what he can only process as overwhelming love. Love that hasn’t wavered, even during their time apart. 

Jisung looks different, yet the same. His hair is a rich brown peeking from under a white beanie and his face has slimmed the slightest bit, but his eyes are just as large as Minho remembers and his features are just as pretty and soft. He’s bundled in a white hoodie, which he’d covered with a denim jacket Minho recognizes to be his, given the patches sewn onto the fabric. Jisung’s chin is buried in a red plaid scarf and he’s wearing white gloves, as if wishing to match the snow falling around them. 

And Minho stands there, hit by what feels like _too much_ but _never enough_ and he doesn’t register anything until Jisung is right in front of him. 

“Hey.”

Jisung squeaks when Minho’s arms wrap around him and compress them together but he’s quick to fall against Minho’s chest, his hands gripping at the sleek fabric of his jacket. Minho rests his chin on the crown of Jisung’s head and squeezes his eyes shut because this is real and if he looks at the falling snow that Jisung loves so much for one more second he will start crying. 

Minho thinks it’s Jisung that is shaking until Jisung makes a worried noise and wiggles around in their embrace to find Minho’s gaze. “Min?” 

“Missed you, Sung.” 

Minho watches as Jisung’s expression crumbles and he’s reduced to watering eyes and trembling fingers. “Me too, so much.” 

Jisung’s skin feels smooth and cold, almost like ice, as Minho’s fingers rise to linger on the curve of his cheek. “I’ve never regretted being your support. The only thing I regret is not being here for you when you’ve needed someone. Me.” 

“Minho…” 

“Please, let me be yours.” 

Jisung gasps under his breath, his hands quivering where they’re placed on Minho’s shoulders. “Minho, I…” 

“I love you, Jisung,” Minho says, his voice cracking with uncertainty. There’s no doubt in his mind that Jisung returns his feelings, but anxiety presses down hard on his heart nonetheless. “I’ve loved you for a long, long time now. I did what was decided between us, I saw the world. Maybe that is what other people look for, but my world is here, right here in my arms.” 

Jisung’s eyes are clouding with tears. “You are mine, and I’m yours,” he says, tears slipping over his cheeks. “You’ve always been mine, and I’ve always loved you.” 

Minho lets out a shaky breath, forehead coming down to rest on Jisung’s shoulder. He’s overwhelmed, his emotions bursting in him and making his heart fill. Jisung’s hand rhythmically petting his hair is the only thing that tethers him down, telling him that Jisung is finally his and only his. 

“Never tell me to go again,” Minho breathes, retreating to cradle Jisung’s jaw, their eyes locking. “I’m meant to be here, with you, and nowhere else.”

As Jisung nods snow continues to fall, catching on the tips of their hair and the fabrics of their clothes. Minho doesn’t have eyes for it, though, he’s focused solely on the boy who is near-glowing in his arms. And for once Minho truly thinks Jisung has forgotten the snow, with how he stares up at Minho like he’s found the meaning of every song written and every star in the sky. With the way he whispers warm words into Minho’s collar, words private to all others save for them. 

“Thank you for loving me.”

**Author's Note:**

> → [twitter](https://twitter.com/wasatch97)  
> → [tumblr](https://wasatch97.tumblr.com/)  
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